London Bridge
by Moonofwinds
Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden... Mirage/ Cliffjumper friendship, could be considered preslash
1. Chapter 1

London Bridge

Chapter 1

Am I mean? Read the fic, I think the answer is clear

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

He ran. It was really more of a fast, dignified walk, but in Mirage's spark he was running. This was not a leisurely walk through the great Crystal Gardens, this was a run for his life. Everyone around him seemed to move in slow motion, almost as if crawling, stopping and starting and lingering around certain especially stunning crystals. Mechs sauntered with a sense of entitlement into the more quiet corners of the Gardens were the pleasure bots plied their trade. The shortest routes through the Gardens passed through those corners but Mirage wasn't looking for the shortest route, he had chosen the most populated one, and as a result the longest, because it would be in quiet corners that Skywarp would strike.

There was a crowd blocking the path ahead and Mirage stopped dead. What was it? Was it just a crowd of Academy mechs, chatting about what the positioning of one particular crystal meant? Mirage took a few steps forward, blending into the crowd, and tried to get a better look. A stage was being set up in the exact centre of the Gardens. Wonderful, there must be a concert this morning. This was a disaster. Now the only way for Mirage to get through the gardens was either to go back towards the Towers, and that was not an option, or go through what his fellow Towers mechs had dubbed the pleasure garden.

What time was it, early evening? Mirage wondered if the pleasure bots would be out in force at this hour. Or was that later in the night? He sighed heavily, it didn't really matter, he couldn't risk staying in the large crowd, Skywarp might get impatient. What choice did he have? Mirage took the path to his right.

Primus did not hold him in his great spark, Mirage concluded, the path was empty. The plating on the back of his neck itched. If Skywarp flew over here, he'd have Mirage for certain. There were no pretences now, Mirage ran. He whipped around each corner without slowing, almost tripping over his own peds in a few spots but he dared not slow down. Unless he was completely cursed, Skywarp was probably focusing his search in the crowd or the other paths. If he was cursed, Skywarp would pluck Mirage off the ground at any second.

As he took another tight corner, Mirage nearly barrelled right into a small red mech, a minibot. He caught his feet before he fell over himself and flattened the little thing. Mirage studied himself, and moved to step around the mech. The red fellow stopped him, placing a small but strong hand against Mirage's midsection.

"What business could you possibly have here, that you're in such a rush?" The mech asked. "I'm the only one in this garden."

"No business with a pleasure bot," Mirage replied.

He didn't hear the inarticulate rage spewing from the little mech. He was already running. The pleasure bot ran after him screaming something. Mirage did not have time for this nonsense. Jets roared over his head, and he could hear the afterburners scream to life. Skywarp had spotted him. Slagging minibot was so loud all of Cybertron must have known he was here.

"Hey!" The minibot yelled as he covered the ground between them. "Get back here you slagger so I can rearrange your face plates!"

The exit was right in front of him, if Mirage could just get through it before Skywarp blocked the way. He did, barely. Looking over his shoulder he finally noticed the minibot on his aft but right behind him, and above was Skywarp. With not time to think, Mirage took the first corner he saw and bolted down it. It was an alley. And it didn't have an exit. Skywarp blew over the minibot and barrelled towards Mirage, trapped against the far wall, at an impossible speed.

Mirage went invisible. He saw the surprise and panic on Skywarp's face as the Seeker realized he had lost his target and couldn't break fast enough. The Seeker warped, but he didn't go far, Mirage heard the crash somewhere on the other side of the alley. Mirage reappeared and took in a deep breath to cool his circuits. He couldn't risk doing that too often. Though his ability didn't use up an excessive amount of extra energon, it used up enough that Mirage didn't dare over use it. How could he know when he would next get a chance to refuel?

A hand seized his arm and dragged him viciously through a camouflaged door that Mirage hadn't noticed. He looked in surprise and saw that they belonged to the red minibot. He was too stunned to speak or struggle. The minibot pulled Mirage along at a surprisingly fast pace, pulling him through doors and down alley ways until they arrived in the labourers district. Then the little mech made a b-line for one particular house. Mirage would never have taken it for anything special, it look like the sort of house one of his creator's cooks would have lived in. The mech rapped twice on the door, still holding Mirage's wrist in an almost crushing grip. There was the click of a lock being disengaged and then the door opened and a blue, white, and black mech stepped into view.

"Cliffjumper, you found a recruit?" The new mech asked. Before Cliffjumper could say anything, Mirage interrupted.

"Would you care to tell me, a recruit for what?" Mirage asked.

"Oh Cliffjumper, Prowl is not going to be happy with you," the mech ushered them in. Cliffjumper scowled. The mech smiled sympathetically to Mirage and said: "I'm Jazz, this is Cliffjumper, and this is an Autobot safe house Come with me, and let me introduce you to Prowl."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," Mirage said. "I've chosen to remain neutral in this war. If I could just go on my way..."

"Oh great idea Towers," Cliffjumper said with a deprecating tone. "Sure go back to the place where they sent out a mech to slag you. And here I thought Towers mechs were supposed to be smart."

"I am not about to return to the Towers," Mirage snapped back, glowering down at Cliffjumper. "Not that it is of any business of yours but I am going to visit a friend."

"And get you both slagged," Cliffjumper snorted. "Stupid Towers..."

"And what about you?" Mirage said, he look condescendingly towards Cliffjumper. "Don't you know what sort of mechs prowl those gardens? Really, you could be slagged just stepping outside. I can deal with ruffians quite well on my own."

"Why, I'll show you rough," Cliffjumper growled and prepared to launch himself at the taller mech. Jazz grabbed his shoulder and held him firm.

"Well this meeting is getting off to a good start," Jazz sighed. "Prowl!"

Prowl stepped out of his office, still right off the entry room of the house. He frowned at Cliffjumper who was thrashing under Jazz's hold, with murder in his eyes, and then he frowned at Mirage, recognizing only that this was a Towers mech. Jazz looked sheepish.

"It looks like Cliffjumper kidnapped, uh..." Jazz said, and looked back at Mirage. "What is your name?"

"Mirage."

"Cliffjumper, we want volunteers, we are not in the habit of press-ganging mechs," Prowl said in a low tone. "I'm sorry, Mirage."

"I didn't kidnap him!" Cliffjumper grumbled. "He was being chased by Skywarp, and I rescued him."

"Rescued me," Mirage gasped, offended by the suggestion. "I'd already lost him!"

"He would've gotten up and been on your aft in three seconds," Cliffjumper snapped. "And if he isn't up right now, it means he's damaged enough that Thundercracker is going to be after your aft until he catches you."

"I can take care of myself!" Mirage snapped back.

"Were are you planning to go?" Prowl asked, both trying to defuse the escalating conflict, and verify if Mirage would be able to keep himself alive.

"I have a friend I can stay with, " Mirage said.

"Prowl," Hound called as he tried to push open the door Cliffjumper was blocking. "A friend of mine is in trouble, can I get leave to find him."

"Never mind Hound," Mirage said, looking at the door with exasperated eyes. "I'm right here."

"Raj?" Hound exclaimed and pushed the door with all his might. Cliffjumper went flying and landed flat on his face. He grumbled from his prone position. Hound didn't notice him at first; he hugged Mirage first, grinning like an idiot.

"How did you do it, Raj?" Hound asked. "How'd you piss off Megatron so bad?"

"I asked my creator why the Towers were siding themselves with a megalomaniac," Mirage said. "And apparently my creator told Megatron."

"What a guy," Hound sighed. "I'm glad you got away from that Seeker."

"Idiot Towers," Cliffjumper grumbled as he sat on the floor and sulked.

"Oh sorry, Cliffjumper," Hound smiled apologetically, and reached out his hand. Cliffjumper waved it off, no anger on his face for Hound. He glowered at Mirage instead. Glowered even darker when Mirage took this opportunity to pretend he didn't exist. Smug, prissy, stupid Towers.

"He's told you he's a neutral, right?" Hound asked Prowl, who nodded. "Mirage is going to stay with me anyway. Can't leave a friend in harms way, right?"

"Of course, Hound," Prowl said.

"What?" Cliffjumper scrambled up, horrified. "No way!"

"Cliffjumper," Prowl warned. "Please play well with others."

Cliffjumper sputtered; Jazz and Hound chuckled. Mirage did his best not to look as disgusted as he felt. No, staying in the Towers would have been worse, but Mirage was quite ready to say this wasn't going to be easy. Actually, he was certain this was going to be the Pit.

And it was the Pit. For Hound at least. Both Cliffjumper and Mirage seemed to relish squabbling with each. When they were in each others' company, they took the opportunity to find each others' buttons, and to push them. Already, by the fifth day, Hound was losing his wits. Prowl called to check in on them all.

"He's normally so quiet," Hound said of Mirage. "But when Cliffjumper and he are together, they're at each others' throats."

"Sorry Hound," Prowl said. "I'd reassign him but I'm hesitant to leave you alone."

"Don't worry about it, Prowl," Hound said, and he laughed. "They made a bad first impression on each other. I just need to find some common ground between them and it should be fine."

"What are you planning to try?" Prowl asked.

"Chess," Hound said. "I know they both enjoy it."

"Good luck," Prowl said, smiling a little.

"Thanks," Hound said and smiled back.

Hound marvelled at how well Cliffjumper played the game. He beat both of them soundly every time. Cliffjumper beat both he and Mirage five times each and Hound was actually surprised that Mirage wasn't laughing at himself by the end. True, Mirage had resisted the idea of playing but Hound had worked at it for a full day and Mirage had eventually given in. He'd been quiet from the start, and Hound had hoped it would have morphed into a comfortable silence. It hadn't. Hound had no trouble losing to Cliffjumper, and Cliffjumper only teased him playfully. When Cliffjumper beat Mirage he did his best to rub it into every one of Mirage's seams. The silence became darker and darker until finally, Mirage spoke with an icy tone.

"Isn't it amazing, Prime seems to have a knack of training unintelligible beast of burden," Mirage said.

"Pompous Towers," Cliffjumper said. "At least I can be trained to do something other than preen."

"At least I'm clean!" Mirage snapped back. "You use the wash racks less often than Hound and he's been known to collect dust."

"Oh go back to the Towers," Cliffjumper hissed. "You'd make a pretty pet for Megatron."

"Enough!" Hound said. "Both of you. Can't either of you act like the grown mechs you are?"

Mirage sat back and made a sound in his nose, but said nothing more. Cliffjumper's optics sparkled with fury, but he too was silent. Hound sighed.

"You two are capable of having so much in common," Hound said. "I don't understand why you can't at least be polite."

"I'm going out, Hound," Mirage said, standing up, turning his back to Cliffjumper. "I can't stomach this."

"Raj," Hound pleaded. "It hasn't been long enough, Megatron..."

"To the Pit, Hound," Mirage said. "He would make better company than your compatriot."

"Raj!" Hound warned.

"Slag'em, Hound," Cliffjumper said, making the first move to the door. "You've great taste in friends. Really, bet he's in bed with Megatron behind your back."

"Please," Hound said.

"I'm going to see what how Brawn is coming with his latest recruit," Cliffjumper said. "I'll be back later."

The door slammed and Hound shut his eyes. Mirage tended to get into trouble with mechs in the Towers, given he made a habit of speaking his mind, even when it was ill advised. But Hound had never known him to have such vicious arguments with anyone, even his creator who had always been so disappointed that the sparkling he had had created in his image never lived up to his expectations.

"Sorry, Hound," Mirage said quietly. "Perhaps I should find a hotel."

"I'm not going to kick you out, Raj," Hound said. "Cliffjumper has a particular hatred for all Towers mechs. I don't know the reason but I know he has one. But you aren't giving him a chance either."

"I get enough of it in the Towers," Mirage said. "I'm not going to take the bullying of a minibot with good humour if I don't have to."

"Please, Raj, please," Hound entreated. "Just please, take a step back and give him a chance. Please."

"Fine," Mirage relented.

"I'll talk to him when he gets back," Hound promised. Except that Cliffjumper didn't come back.

End Chapter 1

A/N And to think I had this grand idea that this was going to be a one shot. Funny, that didn't work out.


	2. Chapter 2

London Bridge

Chapter 2

Am I mean? Read the fic, I think the answer is clear

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

Hound watched the clock with growing apprehension. Mirage sat in the room with him, not so much watching the clock but watching Hound pace as another hour passed. After Cliffjumper had been gone for three hours, Hound turned to Mirage and threw up his hands.

"I need to go look for him," Hound said. "Just in case. He should be at one of the gambling dens. But he should also have been back hours ago. You never know what type of mech might be out at this hour. And Cliffjumper is a great fighter but... I need to find him. Okay?"

"Go," Mirage said. He watched Hound leave. And then in spite of himself, he watched the clock. The minutes, ticked by and then an hour. Mirage wasn't sure when he had started pacing. Finally when another forty-five minutes passed without Hound's or Cliffjumper's return, Mirage resigned himself to go looking for the delinquent minibot himself. He had no idea who this Brawn was or what gambling den he was working out of but Hound obviously did. If he wasn't back yet, then that meant Cliffjumper hadn't been there. So Hound must have been looking in the other nearby dens. By that logic, Mirage would start with one farther away. One he knew was favoured by other Towers mechs.

Mirage took the short cut through the gardens. Hound had insisted he eat his fill so he had no fear of his fuel levels. He went invisible and remained that way all the way through the Crystal Gardens. Just in case, he wove his way through each of the side gardens, just in case Cliffjumper was in one of them. Mirage believed the little mech when he said he wasn't a pleasure bot. There was no chance the Autobots would have wanted a mech to remain in that line of work. But Cliffjumper was small and cute and feisty and all of these traits made him very desirable to a certain type of mech. Even if he didn't like Cliffjumper, he was one of Hound's friend so, Mirage owed it to Hound to help if he could.

Mirage was surprised how relieved he felt when he spotted Cliffjumper in a particularly secluded corner of the Gardens. He was a little less relieved when he got a good look at the mech he was speaking with. Didn't Cliffjumper notice how close Rollover was standing to him, he practically had Cliffjumper pressed back into a corner.

"Cliffjumper," Mirage said. The silver and purple mech turned his head and looked, smirking at Mirage.

"Mirage," the mech Mirage knew as Rollover chuckled. "I didn't know this was your type."

"Come on, Cliffjumper," Mirage said, looking passed Rollover, directly into Cliffjumper's optics. "He's not the sort of mech Prime would want."

"If you want him, Mirage, why don't you fight me for him," Rollover suggested, a cruel glint came to his voice, one that had not been there when Cliffjumper had spoke to him moments before.

"I don't need to," Mirage said, his optics still trained on Cliffjumper.

"Of course, that is how you play," Rollover snorted. "You've never liked lowering yourself to fighting, you don't even have a gun."

"But I do," Cliffjumper said. The gun in question was pressing against Rollover's midsection. "I'm thinking Mirage is right, you aren't the sort of mech Optimus would want."

"Fiesty itty bitty minibot," Rollover teased. "Don't worry, I'll see you around."

The cruel Towers mech stepped back away from Cliffjumper and walked passed Mirage, who didn't turn to face him. Rollover laughed, and walked behind Mirage, nearly touching him. Cliffjumper kept his optics on them both, just in case Rollover tried anything. Mirage only relaxed when they were alone. Cliffjumper walked briskly over to him.

"What in the Pit are you doing here?" Cliffjumper demanded, looking distinctly angry.

"You were gone for three hours so Hound went looking for you," Mirage said, his voice slightly high; he was surprised by Cliffjumper's anger.

"So?" Cliffjumper asked.

"So Hound didn't come back," Mirage said. "So obviously you weren't with Bran or Brawn, or whatever."

"So?" Cliffjumper asked again, obviously not satisfied.

"So I decided to come out and look for you," Mirage replied.

"What were you thinking?" Cliffjumper asked with added fury. "You're no better than Seeker bait."

"I was invinsible," Mirage replied sharply. "And the Seekers rarely patrol at night. They prefer to spend their nighttime interfacing."

The word sounded wrong coming out of Mirage mouth, and far too formal. Cliffjumper grabbed Mirage's hand and set back for home. He didn't say anything until they had cleared the gardens, and his fury abated into coherent thought.

"You don't own a gun?" Cliffjumper asked at long last.

"I have no need of one," Mirage said. "I don't like fighting."

"Do you even know how?" Cliffjumper asked, anger seceded to bewilderment. "Or are you some kind of innocent?"

"I know how," Mirage said with a huff. "My creator insisted. I just don't enjoy it."

"Is that why you want to be a neutral?" Cliffjumper asked.

"It's why I am neutral," Mirage said. "I don't have the manifolds for warfare."

"When you say things like that I almost have to think you are a complete waste of parts," Cliffjumper said. "Fightings not for everyone."

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" Mirage asked with narrowed optics.

"Not really," Cliffjumper said. "Just don't come out here again. I don't want to have to get into the habit of protecting you."

"I believe I was protecting you just now," Mirage corrected him.

"I had him under control," Cliffjumper said.

"Somehow I doubt that," Mirage said.

Cliffjumper snorted and they walked a ways farther without speaking. There was no way he was going to admit that his mind had been racing trying to come up with an escape plan, considering how close Rollover had been getting. Mirage had been a great distraction. Except the idiot might have gotten shot for it, and Mirage wouldn't even have had a gun to shoot back. It was unbelievable. He'd never known a mech in all his life not to carry at least a basic gun.

"Didn't he feel off," Mirage interrupted Cliffjumper's train of thought.

"Him? A little," Cliffjumper said. "I wasn't about to turn my back on the slagger."

"And yet you spoke to him anyway," Mirage stated.

"Sure," Cliffjumper said. "Prowl read me the riot act. Different mechs make good Autobots and that scrap. Since none of your friends in the Towers have joined up, I thought I should at least try and talk to one."

"But him?" Mirage asked. "Didn't you notice what he actually wanted from you?"

"Sure," Cliffjumper said. "Same as most Towers. Made myself gag talking to him but that's normal too."

" I make you want to gag then," Mirage said, rather than asked. "Is that why you do everything possible to degrade me?"

"You don't make me gag," Cliffjumper said. He analyze what he thought about this Towers mech. "I want to rip your voice box out. I don't forgive easy and you called me a pleasure bot."

"You were in that section of the Gardens and you look like one," Mirage said.

"What?" Cliffjumper sputtered. "I do not look like one."

"Yes, you do," Mirage said. "And I think you know it."

Cliffjumper glared but did not disagree. Finally he said: "fine, ya. In Helix all a minibot can be is either a pleasure bot or a fighter in a gambling den."

"And you don't look like a fighter," Mirage observer. Cliffjumper jerked to face him and he had murder in his eyes. "I am not saying you weren't and aren't. But you have exactly the look brothels have killed for."

"But you turned me down when you thought I was one," Cliffjumper said.

"I don't use pleasure bots," Mirage said. He glanced down and saw Cliffjumper appraising him. The intensity of the look made him feel flustered.

"I guess you wouldn't," Cliffjumper said as they approached Hound's door. "You're way too much of a priss."

Mirage scowled but didn't disagree. Cliffjumper laughed. And smiled at Mirage for the first time, finally, after he stopped laughing he said: "I think I like prissy Towers better than the alternative."

"I refuse to take that as a compliment," Mirage said.

"Sparkling," Cliffjumper teased. "No sense of humour."

Hound was waiting for them when they returned, on the comm with Prowl and pacing a hole in his floor. When he'd opened the door to them the expression on his face warned Mirage that Hound was about to jump out of his armour at them. The expression transformed into confusion, then relief. They were standing there, his two friends, at ease with each other. Whatever happened, they're reached an understanding.

"Where did you go Cliffjumper?" Hound asked. "Brawn said you only stuck around the den for a few minutes."

"There was nothing going on there," Cliffjumper said. "So I went through the gardens."

"Cliffjumper..." Hound tried to sound scolding. "That is not a place you should be going at night."

"Probably," Cliffjumper said. "But lecture him, he's the one with a target painted on his back. And without a weapon."

"I'm getting there," Hound sighed before he look to his old friend. "Well?"

"You weren't back," Mirage said. "I assumed he wasn't were he was supposed to be and two mechs can cover more ground than one. I stumbled across him, and it was fine. Nobody could see me, Hound."

Neither Cliffjumper nor Mirage mentioned Rollover. They both knew Hound well enough to know that it would not have angered him so much as caused the anxious mech to worry and he then would have been too watchful of both of them.

"We need to get him a gun though," Cliffjumper said, looking up at Mirage severely. "Just in case."

Mirage looked pained, but he didn't actually argue with Cliffjumper which told Hound that they must have reached some sort of an understanding, and that something had probably happened out there that made Mirage feel the need for added protection.

"I think you're right, Cliffjumper," Hound said, nodding gently; he gave Mirage a weak smile. "At least you know how to use one."

"True," Mirage sighed. "Perhaps we should all head to our berths for the night."

"Brilliant idea," Hound said. "Living with you two is wearing on my systems."

"Ha," replied Cliffjumper and Mirage sarcastically, with glares in their optics.

As Hound had thought, Mirage and Cliffjumper were capable of getting along and maybe even enjoying each other's company. Cliffjumper was louder and more tireless that Mirage had been even as a sparkling when Hound had first met him, but the minibot seemed to have a wonderful talent for bringing out Mirage's humour, and his inner sparkling. They played chess now without Hound instigating anything and rather than being abbrasive, Cliffjumper spent the games trying to get Mirage to lose focus, to speak. These were not the quiet games, passed often in total silence, between Hound and Mirage, Cliffjumper needled at Mirage's age, his posture, and the way he would focus so deeply in thoughts for his next move his optics would lose focus. In turn Mirage would tease, actually tease, Cliffjumper for his inability to stay still, for the way he lit up like a sparkling, and the fact that he couldn't go two minutes without speaking.

Eventually, after a few more days Mirage started winning some of their games. Hound nearly fell over laughing when his old friend won his first against Cliffjumper. Mirage actually pointed and laughed defiantly, and then went completely silent, and been perfectly still. Cliffjumper did fall over, and rolled on the ground, laughing at Mirage and his own clumbsiness. The atmosphere in Hound's home was so much lighter now. It was lighter, even when compared to when it was just him and Cliffjumper. Partly, Hound wondered if it might be in no small part because he had always wanted to see Mirage make friends. Hound couldn't be the only mech on Cybertron that saw Mirage's good points, and even took some amusement in his bad ones.

Neither Cliffjumper or Hound discussed Autobot activities around Mirage. It was not even at Prowl's suggestion or insistance but rather it was Mirage's unspoken policy of leaving the room the moment such discussion were launched. Hound had supplied Mirage with a laser gun as Cliffjumper had suggested but Hound knew it had yet to leave the box Mirage had placed it in next to his berth. War was uncivilized, Mirage had told him just before Hound had joined the Autobots, and they, Cybertronians, were better than this madness. Except Hound had come to the conclusion that many Cybertronians were not better than the madness of war, hence why he had taken up the fight.

The idea of war wounded Mirage. It violated his sensibilities and even as he struggled with his current situation, exiled from his lifelong home, those sensibilities died hard. Hound hated to admit, even to himself, that he wanted those sensibilities to die. Mirage was a good, bright mech and he could help so much if he would join, but Hound would never ask it of him, and he would not ask Mirage to stay when he and Cliffjumper spoke over the comm to Prowl and went over their on-going mission. Given not too much more time, if Hound's observations were correct, Mirage would have to leave Cybetron for safer harbours or enter the fray himself.

Hound wondered what Mirage did when he and Cliffjumper went off to their work and left him alone in the house. He could've asked Mirage, but it wasn't really any of his business. If he had to guess, the wear pattern on the floor in Mirage's small room spoke volumes even when Mirage wouldn't.

Mostly, Hound worked days, keeping his cover as a merchant and contacting a different class of mech than Cliffjumper in the Gardens or dens. Though actually, Cliffjumper hadn't returned to the Gardens after the encounter with Rollover, he focused his attention on the gambling dens. The scene was growing desperate. Brothels and dens were merging and it was becoming a trend that a fighter would also have his services sold to a mech in one of the upper rooms. It didn't seem forced, per say, yet but Cliffjumper knew it was only a matter of time, so all the minibots already involved with the Autobots took a den so none of their brethren slipped through the cracks.. It almost worked.

End Chapter 2

A/N


	3. Chapter 3

London Bridge

Chapter 3

I'm feeling cranky, thanks to my soap batch failing. So I'm posting

this early as a hope that I get a review or two and thus am made happy. So make me happy

Am I mean? Read the chapter, I think the answer is clear

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, I know right?

A young minibot named Windcharger approached Cliffjumper the very first night Cliffjunper began perusing this den. It was a bit out of his element, less seedy than many of the ones he himself had fought in. It catered only to the Towers, and those were the only mechs, other than the fighters and servers, allowed inside. The gray and red minibot approached Cliffjumper in the lockeroom, Cliffjumper was pretending to be a coach, and almost begged for help. He was not in this den of his own volition and his services had already been bought for that night. He'd escaped being a pleasure bot so far only because he was not the sweetest looking mech but he had attracted a mech's fancy and he was desperate to avoid that fate. But Cliffjumper's normal routine was to sneak mechs out inbetween fights and Windcharger was in several, scattered throughout the night, and his last fight was the grand finale.

Cliffjumper wasn't the best strategist but he was clever enough. He called Gears over the comm to help with the plan. It was simple really. Windcharger would take a hit in his second fight, the second to last fight. Gears would take him out of the ring, the norm when minibots were injured, their teammates or friends would always take them back to the lockeroom. Cliffjumper would take his place in the final fight so management wouldn't get their afts in a twist. While he was fighting, Gears would sneek Windcharger out of the lockeroom. When Cliffjumper finished his fight, he would meet them in one of the alleys, and they would make their way home.

Windcharger took a spectacular hit, a few actually. He hadn't been able to fake it, but had intentionally taken a blow to the face and did not do much to recover his feet while his opponent beat him down. The fight was called for the other bot and Gears did his thing. Cliffjumper watched from the lockeroom doors. Management did come down with credits and customers on his mind, Cliffjumper intercepted him.

"He ain't good for another fight," Cliffjumper said when the pompous mech, red and gold and horribly flashy had appeared. "Busted leg and face."

"Really now," the mech said. "That was not part of the choreography."

"Guess they didn't play by the rules," Cliffjumper shrugged. "Those two never liked eachother."

"Of course," the mech groaned. "Minibots. None of the others have the caliber I need for this fight. You, on the other hand have made quite a reputation as a fighter and coach. You will take his place."

"Slagger," Cliffjumper swore. "Fine. But I want my usual rate."

"Agreed," the mech said. "The fight begins in ten minutes. I'm informing the bouncers, they'll know not to let you out. I won't be cheated."

"Paranoid, aren't ya, Towers?" Cliffjumper asked derisively.

"Ten minutes," the mech said. He immediately headed for the stair that let to the luxurious rooms where the wealthiest Towers watched fights and raped mechs. Cliffjumper turned his back and smirked. Off to tell the client that his purchase was no longer in mint condition.

"Autobots, Primus they are ruining my business," the mech grumbled once he was up the stairs and out of Cliffjumper's hearing range. "Rollover, my friend, I'm afraid your pick has taken some serious damage."

"I saw the fight," Rollover said, pausing from glass of high grade. "But I also saw the coach. He will do fine as a replacement."

"Excellent," the mech said, pleased that his best customer was happy. Rollover had gone to his brothel for years, and had been his absolute best customer once he had merged his brothel with this club. "It may be an issue getting him up here."

"Not to worry," Rollover grinned ferally. "I'll wait for him in the lockeroom."

The owner mech nodded and went to see to other customers, leaving Rollover to celebrate his good luck. He ran his hand over his smooth, rounded head, over his new purple insignia.

"I did tell you I'd see you again, "he said with a laugh. "Autobot."

Gears knew there was trouble before Cliffjumper had any idea. Something felt off so he left Windcharger in one of the hidyholes they had found nearby. He hurried back to the exit/ entrance of the lockeroom, but found his way was blocked. A tall silver and purple Towers mech stood in the doorway and would not move.

"But I'm supposed to help with the fight!" Gears said, when the Towers mech would not let him in.

"The last fight is already underway," the mech said. "And the lockeroom is closed."

"But..." Gears began to say.

"It is closed," the mech said, turning as he shut the door. Gears barely caught a glimpse of it but he did see it, the harsh angled insignia that marked the mech as a 'Con. Gears put his hand over the extra armour that hid his own insignia. Cliffjumper was wearing a similar piece. But it wouldn't do him any good, obviously, the 'Con knew what was afoot.

Paniced, Gears ran for the nearest safe alleyway and commed to Hound's house. Hound was the only one near enough to the Towers and this den to be of any use to Cliffjumper. But Hound didn't answer. The Towers mech Cliffjumper had told him about, Mirage answered.

"Where's Hound?" Gears demanded, panic and anger evident in his voice.

"Out," Mirage said. "His personal comm has been acting strangely, he's with your commanders verifying that it hasn't been compromised. You can reach him there."

"That isn't good enough!" Gears snapped. "Primus! Cliffjumper's been set up. He needs back up and I can't get back in. His fight'll be over any minute! And slag, then the 'Con will have him!"

"Where are you?" Mirage demanded, Gears immediately focused his optics on the Towers' face. He looked as horrified and alarmed as Gears felt.

"Ambrosia," Gears said. "It's..."

"I know where it is," Mirage said. "I'm going."

Mirage disconnected the comm before Gears could reply. Slag, a Towers was not the back up he was hoping for but Cliffjumper needed someone and the Towers mech was at least someone, right? Cliffjumper had whined and moaned about him at first but lately he seemed to have warmed up to Hound's houseguest. There wasn't much he good do now. Extra guards had come from the den, there was no way for Gears to even get close.

Cliffjumper won the fight. He knew he would. His opponent was a house fighter kept by the owner to lose the final fight and always make it good. Immediately after he lost the minibot went to the bar and had his fill of high grade; he disgusted Cliffjumper but there wasn't anything he could do about him. At least the lockeroom would be empty. He wouldn't waste his time at the washracks, given he was already making things up as he went, Cliffjumper figured it would be best to get out of the den as quickly as possible. He stepped into the lockeroom and immediately stilled.

The lights were off, they shouldn't have been, since he had been the last mech in there, and he hadn't turned them off. Large hands pushed him forward and Cliffjumper fell hard on his front. He heard the door shut, and the lock connect. Now the lights came on and Cliffjumper moved to his feet.

"Happy to see me," Rollover stepped from the washracks.

"Slagger!" Cliffjumper swore and looked around quickly, realizing he'd been trapped.

"What a treat," Rollover said as he stalked closer. He was taller and heavier armoured than Mirage. Cliffjumper knew this from before. But now it mattered. Unlike Mirage, this Towers mech was a fighter. "I was going to settle on that ugly red and gray minibot but you, you are such an unexpected treat. I've been dreaming about those horns."

Like prey approached by a predator, Cliffjumper's optics went wide and he tried to run. Rollover hit him hard, and crushing him against the ground. Cliffjumper's system called out warnings as his torso was compressed and energon leaked from his damaged lips. He breathed heavily, taking in as much air as he could to cool his overheating circuits. Cliffjumper couldn't stop Rollover dragging his glossa over his damaged lip; he felt the Towers creep's engine hum as he tasted Cliffjumper's energon.

"Delicious," Rollover purred as he leaned in for more.

Mirage had never been into the den. Though it was as elaborately decorated as the towers, the feeling of the place made Mirage feel somehow unclean. It was not his sort of place and the mechs in it were the sort of mechs he had for neighbours and had never been able to stand. The place was nearly empty when Mirage arrived. And no there were no little red mechs in sight. After he had slunk around the entire building, Mirage admitted defeat and thought it best to leave. Odds were, Hound and Cliffjumper would be back at Hound's house, and Hound would be worried. The voice in the back of his mind called for caution and Mirage decided to make certain Cliffjumper wasn't here. He went up to the bartender and asked.

"A red minibot?" The mech asked. "Sure he fought in the last match not quite an hour ago. Should be in the dressing room. I haven't seen him leave."

"Thank you," Mirage said, he spotted the dressing room and made a move towards it.

"Rollover went in their a few minutes ago," the mech added and Mirage winced at his neighbour's name. "Funny, I didn't think this minibot was the type to take that sort of clients."

Mirage's optics widened into saucers and he ran for the dressing rooms.

Cliffjumper couldn't fight hard enough. He actually couldn't. No matter how hard he thrashed, he couldn't even slow the slagger down. The slagger was releasing the clasps in his armour and Cliffjumper couldn't stop him. Primus he didn't want this slaggers cables plugging into him or his fingers or anything else in his ports. The slagger held him down on the ground with one knee on his stomach and one hand holding both of Cliffjumper's arms over his head; he didn't even need to use both legs or hands to hold Cliffjumper, and he had him at his mercy. His thick fingers were revealing Cliffjumper's most private circuits to him and all Cliffjumper could to was squirm and yell. The silver and purple mech seemed to get off on both, and even as he struggled, Cliffjumper felt his circuits freeze with the terror and shame of it all. Primus. Primus someone save him. Cliffjumper's eyes went wide as he heard and felt the release of his armour and the slaggers fingers run along the edges of his 'facing system.

The slagger grinned down at Cliffjumper's horror-stricken face before he leaned his head over and nibbled on one of Cliffjumper's horns. The tiniest hint of pleasure hit Cliffjumper's circuits but disgust and shock beat it out. Cliffjumper couldn't repress a small whimper.

"The fights are over for the night," the slagger said. "No one's going to come in here and find us. They won't even check in here and find you until tomorrow night. That is if I don't take you home with me and keep you as a pet. Ya, I think I'd like that."

"No!" Cliffjumper yelped. The slagger's fingers pressed harder against Cliffjumper's sensitive interface and he bit down hard on the small mech's horn. Cliffjumper shuddered violently, not in pleasure but in disgust. His body threatened to expel the energon Cliffjumper had consumed no more than an hour before.

Laughter cut through the air as the slagger seemed to relish Cliffjumper's panic. He dug his fingers into Cliffjumper's wrists and interface, forcing him harder against the cold floor. He moved his legs to rest over both of Cliffjumper's knees.

"I'm going to have everyone of your circuits and ports," the slagger said. "You're going to think of me every time someone 'faces with you. And lots of mechs are going to 'face with you after I take you home and share you with everyone. Maybe even Megatron will want to a go at you, Autobot."

"No!" Cliffjumper screamed in terror and anger. "No! I'll kill you slagger! I'll kill you!"

"Really?" The slagger laughed, sitting back on Cliffjumper. "I don't think so, Tiny. You can't even move. I've got you laid out under me like a banquet. And I'm going to feast on you for hours."

"No," Cliffjumper whispered it this time. No one was going to save him. If Primus had any mercy, he would kill him now.

The slagger revelled in Cliffjumper's total loss of hope and he flashed his denta and slowly circled his fingers back around one of Cliffjumper's exposed ports.

End Chapter 3

A/N Since I posted these early cause I'm cranky, and reviews make me happy, review. And make me happy.


	4. Chapter 4

London Bridge

Chapter 4

Am I mean? Read the fic, I think the answer is clear

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

And then the fingers jerked away as the slagger was thrown off of him. Cliffjumper scurried back, holding his armour to his chassis, optics wide as an unseen force hit the slagger over and over. Mirage. Mirage stood over the slagger, the back of the other mech's head in his hand, covering the Decepticon insignia Cliffjumper could only now just barely see and he hit the slaggers head against the floor with a sickening crunch, and another until his face was unrecognizable. When Mirage finally rolled the slagger over he only seemed satisfied when he confirmed that the slagger was dead. His hands, all of him really, were covered in the dead mech's fluids.

And all Cliffjumper could do was stare up at him. His fingers seemed locked and he couldn't even put his own armour back in place. Mirage stepped over to him slowly, concern making his optics bright and warm. Any other time Cliffjumper would have sworn and raged at being the object of concern but all he really wanted to do now was throw himself at Mirage and cling to him until he felt like his spark wasn't going to explode. He didn't throw himself at Mirage or even move at all. The Towers mech knelt next to him and put his armour back in place. Then he just sat there in front of Cliffjumper until the minibot was able to meet his gaze.

"Are you alright?" Mirage asked softly.

"Uh," Cliffjumper stammered. "Ya."

Anger shot across Mirage's optics and lingered there. He offered his hand to Cliffjumper, and Cliffjumper took it. Mirage pulled him up and made no comment when Cliffjumper wobbled for a moment, then Mirage led him around the dead mech and out of the locker room. Cliffjumper moved like a drone, and let Mirage pull him along by his wrist through the betting hall and out onto the street. Finally, Cliffjumper felt his words return to him.

"You killed him," Cliffjumper said. "Primus, with your hands. Where is your gun?"

"At Hound's," Mirage replied.

"Idiot," Cliffjumper grumbled. "How long did you know him."

"Most of my life," Mirage said. "Our creators are friends."

"But you hated him," Cliffjumper said.

"Yes," Mirage replied.

"You were never friends? Cliffjumper asked. He felt so sick. Mirage had killed a mech, probably his first ever, with his bare hands, all for him.

"Primus, no," Mirage said, he shook his head vehemently. "No," Mirage said, staring straight ahead, looking like he wanted to race down the street but keeping a slow pace for Cliffjumper's sake. "I don't keep many friends. Just Hound."

"I'm glad," Cliffjumper said. "I'm glad you didn't kill a friend for me."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Mirage said. "He wouldn't have been a friend after that."

That... Cliffjumper pulled away from Mirage and purged over the side of the sidewalk. He didn't shy away when Mirage placed a hand on his back and stood there with him.

Cliffjumper could feel both Rollover's and Mirage's fingers still. The violating touch of Rollover's large hands over his 'face panel wouldn't come clean, no matter how long Cliffjumper spent in the wash racks, and the gentle, innocent touch on his armour from Mirage's careful reattachment of his armour. The latter's continued lingering made Cliffjumper shy away from his sort-of-friend. Seeing Mirage only reminded him of his helplessness, it only made Cliffjumper's armour heat, and in turn in only brought that violating touch back to the forefront of Cliffjumper's sensory memory.

He didn't do it to be cruel. Cliffjumper was grateful to Mirage but it felt like torture to stand close to him, or to play across the chess board. So he did neither. In fact, he took every opportunity to be away from the house, spending all of his time with the other minibots. Eventually he would stop being a coward and return to his old self and his old ways but he wasn't there yet. Because he didn't look at Mirage, he didn't see how much his distance bothered the Towers mech.

"Raj?" Hound asked, seeing the unhappiness Mirage couldn't keep from his face as he watched Cliffjumper head out with a small army of his fellow minibots. Cliffjumper had been flinching form Mirage's presence for over two weeks.

"I'm a Towers," Mirage said, his hands raised in front of himself in defeat. "I can't be anything else. How could he want to be around me for even the briefest second?"

"He knows you're different," Hound said. "He'll come around."

"I hope he does," Mirage said. "Selfishly because it was nice having another friend. But also because it would be a sign that he is recovering some of the self-assurance he has lost."

"Ya," Hound sighed.

"In the mean time," Mirage said. "Perhaps I should find a new place to stay."

"Pit, Raj," Hound swore with a tired voice. "He'd just feel guilty for chasing you off. Just keep respecting his space, like you've been doing and I know he will come around."

The Academy was blown into oblivion on the eve of the Geminids meteor shower. Seekers flew like a cloud of locusts, blocking the famous shooting stars from view and flattening every building and every mech they saw running from the building. Prowl called Hound and Cliffjumper to his safe house as the attack raged, and ordered them to bring Mirage. If this was the beginning of an even larger assault on the mechs of Helix, Prowl wanted the Autobots in the city in one place.

The faces of the Autobots crowded into the small house all held the same dull optics. They were all quiet, even the minibots who had milled through Hounds house, only quieting when they saw Mirage, were silent now. Some of the Autobots held their heads in their hands, others leaned against walls, still others sat together, staring at shuttered windows, still seeing in their minds, the storm of death outside.

Prowl stood off from his subordinates, close to the comm in an attempt to keep in close contact with Optimus, who was racing for the city with as many of the Iacon based Autobots that could move without drawing attention. Jazz stood with him, their bodies touching and hands locked together to offer each other strength. Hound sat near the door, shaking his head, and Mirage sat with him, sort of hiding from the view of many of the distraught mechs. He didn't so much cower as do everything in his power not to draw attention to himself. Still more than a few mechs eyed him with suspicion, and perhaps even hate. The Towers had sided with Megatron, no reports so far mentioned Towers mechs being involved in the attack, no mech created for those lofty buildings would be trusted here. Never one to be a fool, Prowl went over to Mirage a few times, in between reports, as Autobot scouts came and went, saving who they could and bringing back reports.

"Perhaps I can help in some way?" Mirage asked in a quiet voice.

"I would love to put your ability to use," Prowl said in an equally soft voice. "But understand tempers are frayed and I do not want mistakes made at your expense."

"I understand," Mirage said.

"I don't," Jazz said, making no attempt to whisper. "I'll take him with me. I need a scout to come with me and find a clear path. There isn't a better mech here for the job."

"Jazz..." Prowl said a little louder but still quiet. "Many of the mechs here haven't been Autobots long, and their experiences with the Towers have been..."

"Reprehensible," Mirage interrupted.

"Thank you," Prowl said, though he gave Mirage a sympathetic look. It couldn't be a pleasant experience sitting in a small room full of mechs who would shoot you as the enemy at the slightest provocation. "There is too high a chance of something going wrong with the other scouts."

"Then I won't bring any other scouts," Jazz said. "The fewer mechs that go with me, the less chance we'll be spotted, and no one is going to spot me. Trailbreaker's meeting us at the coordinates and between his force field generator and Mirage's cloaking, I won't need anyone else."

"I can't disagree with your logic," Prowl sighed, resigned.

"Well we're off then," Jazz said, he held out his hand to Mirage and helped the Towers mech up. "Still up for it."

"Yes," Mirage replied.

"Prowl," Huffer exclaimed. "He'll slag Jazz the second he's out that door."

"He hasn't slagged me yet, or Cliffjumper," Hound said. "Mirage is a good mech, being from the Towers doesn't make a difference."

Gears and a couple of the other minibots looked at Cliffjumper who stared intently at Mirage, saying nothing. The complaints grew louder, until Prowl intervened.

"Can any of you disappear?" Prowl asked. Nos were murmured. Someone grumbled that only 'Cons would have that sort of ability. Prowl ignored the comment. "Mirage has proven himself, to me, that he can be trusted. Get moving Jazz or Trailbreaker will have to start without you."

"So cold, Sweetspark," Jazz whispered, taking one last quick moment to caress his mate's face. "I'll be back."

"I told you not to call me that in public," Prowl said with mild exasperation.

"Just in case," Jazz said. "I love you, Sweetspark."

"Come back," Prowl said. "Come back."

"I will," Jazz promised though he and Prowl both knew, there was a chance he wouldn't

Hound stepped out the door with Jazz and Mirage, before he went back inside, he handed one of his guns to Mirage.

"I know you didn't bring yours," Hound said. "Tell me you aren't just doing this to try and prove yourself to them."

"I'm not," Mirage said. Jazz watched the friends. Hound's question was a good one, and Jazz had thought of it too, but even if Mirage was doing this for prove himself, Jazz would use him to his advantage when they ran into the Pit. Mirage gave Hound a levelling look. "I'm doing this because I need to."

Jazz didn't doubt Mirage was lying, and he didn't doubt that Hound thought so to, but he couldn't let Mirage change his mind now. Proving himself, would make it easier for the Towers mech to be accepted as an Autobot when he did, and Jazz knew it was only a matter of when.

"So, Mirage," Jazz asked as they both transformed and raced from the labourers' district. "Ever been to the Academy?"

"Yes," Mirage said. "My creator expected me to attend the War Academy but I would often sneak into the Academy itself to attend lectures of a different nature."

"Excellent," Jazz said. "I don't suppose you still remember how to sneak in? Provided there is anything left for us to sneak in to."

"There's a janitorial garage near the south east wall," Mirage said. "I doubt it will have been attacked; it's easily missed."

"Lead the way," Jazz said. And they raced off. Neither of them looked back. If they had, they would have seen that Prowl and Cliffjumper had joined Hound on the steps of the safe house, and were watching them as they disappeared down the empty street.

Trailbreaker was already haggard when Mirage and Jazz came barrelling up, Jazz frowned and asked, with obvious frustration:

"Please tell me you've been consuming your quota of energon?"

"Yes," Trailbreaker said. "The Seekers seem to be destroying anything now. They took out a couple of the student residences from the Academy. I had to use my force field to protect the escaping mechs from debris.

"Thank Primus you were here," Jazz said, and he meant it. Even though he knew this would make it harder for Trailbreaker to erect another shield while they went under the ruins of the Academy and tried to access the basement where some mechs might have survived. The mechs Trailbreaker had protected had probably been young. They sure as Pit didn't deserve to be crushed under rubble. Jazz optics blazed with anger, more young ones, many more would be laying dead beneath the Academy at that very second.

Horrific explosions erupted and Jazz looked up at the Seeker stained sky. One particular Seeker was in a frenzy shooting and shooting at the remnants of the Science Academy. Presumably, at students or teachers.

"That one is crazed," Trailbreaker said. "Been shooting at the Science building over and over, doesn't seem like he sees anything else. The Seekers circling are his Trine, Skywarp and Thundercracker."

"That one is Starscream," Mirage said, his optics also following the deranged Seeker, he wasn't worried about Skywarp or Thundercracker now. If they shot him, it was because he was there. They weren't coming in low enough to see individual mechs. The sound Mirage had been trying to place in the seconds since they had arrived had been made clear now. It was Starscream, keening a strange battle cry as he attacked the building.

"He graduated from the Science Academy but his transcript was destroyed and he was cast out after he murdered one of the directors."

"Why in Primus' name did he do that?" Jazz asked.

"He was an explorer for them and lost a colleague on some remote world," Mirage explained as he went invisible, preparing to scout out a route. "They refused to launch a rescue. Not cost effective."

"Primus," Jazz breathed an angry sigh. That Seeker may not have been here if credits didn't rule Cybertron. But he was here, and now he was a 'Con. Whatever he might have been before, now he was an enemy, and not a sympathetic figure.

End Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

London Bridge

Chapter 5

Am I mean? Read the fic, I think the answer is clear

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

Mirage returned quickly, having found the garage clear. All three mechs slunk into the underground cavern of metal and wire. Trailbreaker erected his force field, again, as the roof above them shook.

Jazz kept his promise. He made it home to Prowl. He was so tired. They'd recovered two mechs, scientists, he knew were friends of Ratchet's, or at least they said they knew the neutral medic who worked out of Iacon. Preceptor's alt mode was that of a microscope, Jazz had driven him down terrified streets full of mechs in their alt modes, trying to escape the carnage. They blended in well. They blended in even as Wheeljack, the other mech, carried Trailbreaker, who Mirage had chained to his back, after Trailbreaker had collapsed into an involuntary recharge.

They'd so hoped to return with more but they had stayed out even longer than they should have. Mirage had been the voice of caution, echoed by Wheeljack who had seen Trailbreaker begin to succumb to the strain, even as he and Jazz scrambled desperately through mounds of crumbled metal. It was a futile search. Someone had set off explosions in the basements of each building, guaranteeing their destruction. The only reason they had managed to recover Wheeljack and Preceptor was because Wheeljack tended to set off quite a few explosions of his own so his work shop was reenforce and Preceptor had been working with him at the time the Academy fell.

The Autobots awaiting their return did not have their spirits lifted when they saw only two scientists and one of their own unconscious. Jazz and Mirage unloaded Trailbreaker and carried him to Jazz and Prowl's berth. Jazz barely heard the first mumbles of suspicion that somehow the lack of survivors had something to do with Mirage. The saboteur looked out the corner of his optic, hoping Mirage hadn't heard those same whisper. Mirage didn't look at him, he focused on arranging Trailbreaker on the berth.

"They'll simmer down," Jazz said. "They just need to get to know you and then they'll trust you."

"It doesn't matter, Jazz," Mirage said. "I'm not an Autobot and I'm not going to be."

"We're not all like this," Jazz said, despairing now. "The others, longer time Autobots, back in Iacon, and Optimus. They aren't like that. These mechs. They're just afraid."

"And they have every right to be," Mirage replied. "I'm not an Autobot."

"Mirage," Jazz began. He was looking off at the shuttered window.

"You're all returning to Iacon, correct?" Mirage asked. "When Prime gets here."

"Ya," Jazz replied. He did not like where this was going.

"I'm not going with you," Mirage replied

"The Pit you aren't!" Jazz swore. "You'll die here."

"There are things I have to do here before I can think of leaving," Mirage said. "I won't leave without settling my business."

"I'll chain you to Hound," Jazz said angrily.

"You'd have to be able to see me," Mirage said, his voice almost sad, as he disappeared.

"That's a cheap trick," Jazz hissed.

"I'll stay here until you all leave," Mirage said. "I need to speak to Hound."

"I hope he slugs you," Jazz said and clenched his denta.

"He won't," Mirage said. "He'll understand. He won't like it, but he'll understand."

Hound didn't understand, much to Mirage's chagrin. They waited for Optimus to arrive in Prowl's office. It was Jazz's and Prowl's dearest wish now that the Towers mech be convinced to come with them.

"He isn't going to listen," Hound said, he shook his friend's shoulders and pleaded. "You know that don't you. Don't throw your life away."

"He's my creator, Hound," Mirage said. "It's my duty to try."

"And your honour to die," Hound said with a grimace.

"Am I interrupting?" Optimus said as he slowly opened the office door.

"Optimus," Hound breathed. "I'd hoped I'd have more time."

"Afraid not," Optimus said. "Let me speak to him."

Hound stepped from the room and let Mirage alone with Optimus Prime. Mirage couldn't help but be intimidated. Prime was huge. It wasn't so much his size but the energy he projected. He felt strong. He radiated conviction. Mirage stood before him, unmoving, mouth set in a hard line.

"You must be Mirage," Optimus said after he too sized up the smaller, lightly built mech. "Jazz tells me you aren't coming with us."

"I'm not," Mirage said.

"Hound couldn't convince you," Optimus observed.

"No," Mirage said. "I need to speak to my creator. No matter how small the chance is, I have to try and convince him that the road he takes will lead to his death and that of the Towers as well."

"I see," Optimus said. "I have to agree with Hound, you will likely die in the Towers if you go there. But, I understand your conviction. It is not in me to kidnap mechs against their will, even if it is for their own good."

"Thank you," Mirage said.

"Thank you, Mirage," Optimus said. "You may say you are not an Autobot but you are nonetheless one of the finest mechs I have had the honour of meeting. You saved Cliffjumper, and helped save the scientists, even though you claim no side in this war. Good luck."

"Thank you," Mirage said. "I'm pleased to have met you. Hound takes great pride serving you."

"I take that as a compliment," Optimus said. "If you do somehow survive, find us in Iacon."

"I will," Mirage said.

Mirage couldn't stand the idea of parted from Hound on such a note and with no good bye but his spark didn't have the strength to seek out his friend. He stayed in Prowl's abandoned office until he heard the last of the Autobots drive away. This was it then, it was time to find his creator.

They'd been driving for fifteen minutes when Cliffjumper had concluded that Mirage was definitely not with them. Hound was scouting ahead, alone and Mirage would have stood out amongst the labourers, warriors, minibots and scientists that filled the convoy, unless he was invisible. But why would he be now? The red minibot darted between his fellow Autobots until he reached Optimus at the front of the convoy.

"Where's Mirage?" He asked as he more or less barged between his leader and the bodyguard. Ironhide made an irritated sound.

"He chose to stay behind," Optimus said. "I'm sorry, Cliffjumper. He was insistent that he needed to see his creator."

"That idiot, Towers, prissy, ghost," Cliffjumper swore violently. "If the slagger doesn't die, I'll kill him."

"I'm sorry," Optimus said again. "He's an honourable mech. He cannot bring himself to leave the one who created him to his fate. Even if it is one he chose himself."

"He'll sell him out to Megatron!" Cliffjumper cried. "He did it before and Mirage barely got away from Skywarp. Please, let me chase after him! Maybe I can stop him!"

"I can't leave you here alone," Optimus said.

"Then let Hound stay," Cliffjumper entreated. "It'll kill him, I promise you, to leave Mirage. They've known each other since they were sparklings.

Optimus winced and remembered the mech he had known from his creation. He took air into his intakes and gave Cliffjumper a measuring look. When had the firebrand grown up? He looked off towards Hound. Even in his alt mode, Hound looked defeated.

"Alright, Cliffjumper," Optimus said. "If you can convince Hound..."

Cliffjumper whooped with pleasure and raced away to catch Hound, even before Optimus finished speaking. Optimus sighed. He knew Ironhide was watching him. His bodyguard would never raise his doubts as openly as this.

"They need to try," Optimus said. "For their own sanity. Hound's bound by the loyalty of friendship and Cliffjumper must know he owes Mirage his life."

"If he were my friend, I'd be going after him too," Ironhide said. "If the slagger in your box wasn't about to go offline from stretching himself so thin, again, and the slaggers behind us weren't dead on their gears, I'd be hankering to chance the misguided mech myself."

"You would," Optimus said. "And I'd be hard pressed to hold you back."

What had he done to make his creator hate him? There had been too many times in Mirage's life where he had asked himself this question but many of those times could easily be explained by the exaggeration of a sparkling. This was not one of those times. His creator must have well and truly hated him and probably had since he had first come into being.

"Look out the window," Mirage said. "Look what he has done to the Academy. The Towers need medics, and scientists and engineers. Now they have none. No one survived, Sire. I was there. Do you really think the Towers will be spared too? Something will happen to gain Megatron's ire, and then these luminous buildings will be nothing more than scrap."

"I've often asked myself how I ever managed to raise such a fool as you," his creator said with disdain.

"You've said many times that you created and raised me in your image," Mirage said, his sire was a similar model and painted in the same blue and white as Mirage. "So I suppose it would only make sense that I be a fool, given you are the greatest of all."

Mirage's sensors and alarms rang when his creator landed a powerful blow on the side of his jaw. He staggered but didn't fall, and righted himself quickly. Defiance glowed in his optics as Mirage stared down his creator.

"Megatron will not share power," Mirage said. He ignored the ache of his facial structures scraped against each other where his creator had broken the fine skeletal structure. "You're no more to him than the a drone."

"We'll see, Mirage," his creator said. "You've been spending so much time with that merchant, and other Autobots. I wonder what secrets Megatron will be able to tear from your circuits."

"Sire!" Mirage gasped, actually caught off guard by his creators words. His circuits raced with horror and betrayal. The door chime rang, and two mechs entered. Oh wonderful.

"You Seekers took your sweet time," Mirage's creator grimaced and sneered down at Skywarp and Thundercracker.

"We don't serve you, Towers," Thundercracker said. "We're at Megatron's beck and call, not yours."

"Well your master will want words with my failed creation," the mech sneered at Mirage. "It's time you actually came to be of some use to me."

Mirage took a step back and thought to disappear but a flash of disruptor fire burned the thought from his mind and he crumbled to his knees. Alarms sounded in his audios and before his optics. He couldn't focus his thoughts, or even struggle as the Seekers seized his arms and dragged him from his creator's sight.

Slowly, the alarms faded and Mirage allowed his optics to come back into focus and he raised his head. The reward for his troubles was a vicious kick to his abdomen. Mirage doubled over and clutched his stomach as he looked up. Thundercracker looked down at him.

"Just a thank you from me and Skywarp," the purple Seeker. "Mostly from me 'cause I had to deal with his whining. Have fun with Megatron. He'll be here any second to come and pick your circuits."

"You've betrayed your coding," Mirage said through clenched denta. His wrists were bound, as were his ankles and he was soaked in sticky white paint.

"It's been ages before Seekers were trusted with any sparklings, other than other Seekers," Thundercracker replied. "We're crazed, and stupid. A lower form of mech, not to be trusted with delicate little ones."

"But shackling yourself to Megatron, destroying the Academy, how can you do that?" Mirage asked.

"Megatron has freed the Seekers from slavery," Thundercracker said. "I have nothing to say for the Academy."

"And that's it," Mirage said. "Is it really that easy to throw away life?"

"You're naive, Towers," Thundercracker said. "Alarmingly so. It'll be a mercy for you that Megatron won't let you live to see the rest of this war."

Thundercracker left him alone. He ached, but Mirage knew, based on his internal diagnostics, that he had suffered no serious damage. Naive. Was resisting war and revolution naive? It must have been or Mirage wouldn't have been locked in this room, high in the Towers, betrayed by his own creator.

He was naive, Mirage decided. Only naivety, or wilful ignorance, could explain how Mirage had not known of the change in Seeker status, or the crushing conditions that had sparked the miners' revolt which had propelled Megatron into power. Mirage hadn't even explored Helix passed the Academy or Gardens, in all his life he had stayed close to what he knew as home. He had been afraid to stray. Even when he felt isolated amongst the other Towers mechs, from creation through adulthood, the Towers had been familiar, safe, the greater expanse of the planet and society had been too intimidating. The whispers of social upheaval had kept Mirage in the Towers. He had been naive enough to believe that he could stay out of it all if he willed it.

Mirage shuttered his optics, he ached a little but his spark hurt more than anything else. He was clearly a masochist. Since he'd first spoken, since he'd first had an opinion, Mirage's creator had made himself known that Mirage was not what he had wanted. He might have looked much like his creator, but he was too subdued, too thoughtful. He had not interest in hunting or politics. As far as his creator had been and still was concerned, was a useless fool who would never gain his creator anything. It was no wonder to Mirage that he had no siblings. And still, even though Mirage had always known this, he had also always wanted to be wanted by his creator. He had always wanted to be loved. And today's meeting with his creator would be the final, ultimate proof that Mirage was not loved.

End Chapter 5

Just kicking him while he is down. As I've mentioned, I'm taking a class now and will be focusing on that. And not fanfiction, even though this is so much more fun, I have to accept these necessary priorities.

Sadly I haven't gotten much done on the next chapter, so it may be really slow in coming. I haven't forgotten it, or abandoned this fic but school, especially since I am paying for it, must have my attention.


	6. Chapter 6

London Bridge

Chapter 6

WARNING THIS CHAPTER IS AN M

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

"I never thought about it but the Towers are huge." Cliffjumper said from his and Hound's perch in one of the many now empty homes in Helix. They hadn't returned to Hound's home, guessing that the Decepticons might have been on to its Autobot use.

"They are," Hound said. "Thousands of mechs live in them. Mirage's creator lives on the 86th floor."

"Wow," Cliffjumper murmured.

"From my sources, the 'Cons have taken over the top floors of each Tower," Hound said. "I won't get even so far as the second floor. My face is known, and so are my sensibilities."

"So I have to get in," Cliffjumper said. Oh he hated this and Mirage was going to owe him forever, but he new exactly how he could get in. "So, this place has wash racks right?"

"Yes..."Hound said. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that a pleasure bot will have no trouble getting anywhere in the Towers," Cliffjumper said. "Come on, I'm going to need help if I'm going to look the part."

"Oh," Hound said. "Are you sure about this?"

"Nope," Cliffjumper said. "But we don't have any other choice."

"Cliffjumper," Hound said slowly. "Are you doing this because you think you owe Mirage?"

"Yes, but that doesn't change anything," Cliffjumper replied. "Now help me."

"With what?" Hound asked with a confused frown.

"Don't make me say it," Cliffjumper snapped, glared at Hound then looked away.

"Uh..." Hound said.

"Help me get prettied up!" Cliffjumper exclaimed, face heating in humiliation.

"In any other situation I'd be laughing my aft off," Hound said, smiling slightly. "But since this is sort of a serious situation..."

Thundercracker had turned off the light when he'd left. Mirage had always liked the dark as a sparkling. It had been a reprieve from his creator. When the lights had gone out, he had been left alone. No more condemnations, or expectations. Once the lights went out, Mirage had no longer been able to see the disappointment on his creator's faceplates.

Unfortunately the night was only temporary. Mirage doubted his father would come. But someone would come in morning, if not before, to permanently deactivate him. Actually, given Mirage's luck, Megatron himself would come to strip his circuits for information. He felt a small amount of pleasure that he had no real information about the Autobots, except a few names.

The Autobots would not be hurt by anything Mirage knew. At least he could die without that guilt in his conscience. It didn't really makes him feel any better about dying though. Mirage had never planned on dying young. He had planned on doing something with his life; he had never managed to figure out what that something was going to be. So he was going to die having never been of any use to Cybertronian society. Just a spoiled Towers mech.

Cliffjumper flashed through Mirage's mind. Mirage had hoped that maybe they could have become friends. It would have been nice to have someone other that Hound to call a friend. Hound was furious with him now. Mirage felt guilty. He had known this would happen. He hadn't expected his creator to listen, but he had ignored Hound and gone to the Towers anyway.

A last fleeting hope that maybe, maybe in the back of his processor, his creator loved him.

Mirage choked back a sob and let his head rest on his arms, the sticky paint on his faced smudged as coolant leaked down his face. The one person who should have loved him didn't. Overwhelming misery replaced fear as Mirage let the knowledge that no one love him overcome him.

"You look good, 'Jumper," Hound said as he accessed his handiwork. "Alarmingly so."

"Don't make me rearrange your faceplates," Cliffjumper threatened. "So how do I get in?"

"Just walk up to the doors," Hound said. "The security guard will know what you are. Or rather what you are pretending to be. Just say you have an appointment. Don't argue with him. Don't scowl. Don't grumble. Just... Just try not to be you."

Cliffjumper gave Hound a ominous look but couldn't disagree. They'd removed his emblem to make certain no one would take him for an Autobot. His new paint gleamed. Even the seams of his joints caught the light. He had never looked this... Pretty? Eck... Clean.

"Are you sure..." Hound looked anxiously down at Cliffjumper as he spoke. "I could go."

"You wouldn't get in," Cliffjumper replied. "Just do your part. Stir up the minibots in the dens and make'em come here and riot."

"I will," Hound promised. "The Towers mechs love their gossip. People will be talking about Mirage. He won't be with Delusion, his creator. If I know that mech at all he'll have sold out 'Raj to Megatron. Listen and you should be able to figure out where he is. You know we may be too late."

"Don't..." Cliffjumper said angrily.

"No," Hound interrupted. His face was pained. "I want him back safe too but you need to prepare yourself for the worst."

"I'll meet you back here," Cliffjumper said. "And I'll have that Towers idiot."

The guard at the Towers was even wearing a 'Con emblem. Wow. They weren't even trying to be subtle. Cliffjumper schooled his face and tried to look pleasant. He thought about each step, mimicking the gait Hound had demonstrated for him. He rocked his hips slightly as he walked. The gait of a seducer Hound had said. Cliffjumper seethed internally. I hate you; I hate him; I hate them; I hate everything. The mantra repeated over and over in his mind and he took the steps up to the embossed, doors of the Towers.

Cliffjumper felt miniscule approaching those doors. They were twice as tall as the tallest mech and looked more expensive than most mechs homes. He hated the Towers at least three times more now just for that pompous door.

Hound's paint job was perfect. Cliffjumper saw only lust when he met the guards optics. Every circuit in his processor burned with the urge to flatten the mech's faceplates but Cliffjumper smiled instead. He'd be sick later. Because he was a mech on a mission. Maybe he'd come back later and turn that mech inside out.

"I have an appointment," Cliffjumper said. He barely recognized his voice. He'd never needed or wanted to sound sultry before. The guard smirked and gave him a long, wanting look. Cliffjumper put one hand on his hip and gave the guard an impatient look. The tall doors opened.

It was like stepping into another world. The room was huge. Lined with beaming silver walls with artwork hanging here and there and sculptures filled the corners. A hulking, well polished mech stepped forward from behind a desk and walked over to Cliffjumper. He looked down at Cliffjumper with a look of disgust.

"Who is your appointment with?" The mech asked. He wore a laser gun on his arm. Another security guard.

"Hardrock," Cliffjumper said without dimming his optics or even thinking. The mech had come on to him over and over back in the dens.

"62nd floor, apartment two," the mech grumbled.

"You're a dear," Cliffjumper said with his sweetest voice. Inwardly he wondered how many ways he could dissect a mech while he was still alive.

He left the mech behind and and walked into the foyer. A few mechs stood around the room, chatting. The colours, the prototypes both told Cliffjumper these were Towers mechs. Cliffjumper couldn't move too close; he walked by them, slowly as he made his way to the elevator.

"You have heard about Delusion's sparkling, haven't you?" One white and pale green mech asked the silver and teal mech standing closest to him.

Cliffjumper's audios perked at the name. He slipped just a foot closer, rounding around the pair on his way to the elevator.

"Who hasn't?" The other mech asked. "That Mirage always was odd. Always slumming it. I've heard the Seekers are keeping him in Highsound's apartment until Megatron returns. After all, Highsound can't exactly complain, can he?"

"Serves him right, anyway," replied the other mech. "Propositioning a Seeker, how low can one stoop?"

"Did you see the mess that other Seeker made?" The other mech asked. "They are never going to get the energon stain off of the floor. It will have to be replaced.

Cliffjumper looked over the directory hanging between the two elevators. Highsound... Apartment three on the 85th floor. He sucked air into is intakes as he stepped into the elevator and the doors shut behind him. There had better be a servants elevator or stairs, Cliffjumper hadn't really planned how he was going to get Mirage out of the Towers. They wouldn't exactly be able to go out the front doors.

The elevator seemed to move slowly. Cliffjumper's circuits heated up. He shifted his weight from ped to ped until the elevator chimed, announcing its arrival to the 85th floor. With humming intakes, Cliffjumper stepped out of the elevator into the empty hallway. It was a long hallway, and Cliffjumper struggled not to run to the third apartment. His processor was running hot, and he looked over his shoulder. It was so quiet. Cliffjumper optics dropped to the floor where the energon stain he had heard about told him the mech called Highsound had not survived his run in with the Seeker.

No doors opened; no one entered the hallway. Cliffjumper was practically shaking when he arrived at the door. He took a long intake of air and opened the security panel by the door. The Towers mechs were casual about their personal security systems. They were too comfortable thanks to the guards downstairs. They must have believed burglary was beneath their fellow Towers, and servants were probably thought of as too scared to dare steal from their masters. It only took a minute, maybe less to override the door's lock. Cliffjumper switched a few cables and slid the door a few inches open, manually. He waited. No one yelled or shot. But he did hear plates grinding and the loud intakes of mechs. Cautiously, Cliffjumper peered in. And he immediately jumped back.

Oh he did not need to see that. The stories about Seekers were true. A purple and black Seeker had a blue and white one pinned up against the far wall, one of the lighter coloured mech's legs wrapped over his hip. The sounds were unmistakable, as were the obvious movements as the purple mech rocked hard into the blue one.

Cliffjumper covered his eyes and slid the door half open. He waited for the Seekers to notice but all he heard were their moans and the grinding of metal on metal. He went to his knees and crawled partway through the door. When he didn't get shot, he crawled quietly and carefully, hugging the wall closest to him, and farthest from the Seekers. He wondered where they were holding Mirage as he made his way along the wall and looked in through each doorway. He started to move past the first hallway. The door to the master berthroom was open. At first, he almost missed it but Cliffjumper did a double take and saw the second door in the hall.

Do not open. It was painted across the door in white paint. Cliffjumper half dimmed his optics.

Really? Were they that obvious? Okay... They were Seekers, and if all the stories were true... There was no obvious lock for him to override, just the opening mechanism. Tentatively, Cliffjumper reached up and pressed the button. Door shot open with a whoosh. The lights didn't activate. Cliffjumper froze. Surely they heard that.

"'Warp," a hoarse voice said. "Just like that! Yes! 'Warp!"

Cliffjumper crawled quickly through the door, before even really looked into it.

"What?" Cliffjumper grumbled low. "Too cheap to replace the light?"

"Cliffjumper?" Mirage asked, softly. "You shouldn't be here."

"Well neither should you, idiot," Cliffjumper replied. "What's wrong with the lights?"

"Deactivated," Mirage replied. "There is a manual switch next to the door, on the the left."

In seconds the washracks, oh clever Seekers, were illuminated and Cliffjumper got a good look at the same white paint as the door. Mirage also got a very good look at Cliffjumper.

He was beautiful. Mirage shuttered his optics and grimaced. End that thought process, delete memory, just go away. Oh no, he was not allowed to be attracted to Cliffjumper. That would never end well. He onlined his optics again; Cliffjumper was only inches away.

"Are you okay?" Cliffjumper asked.

"I'm fine," Mirage said. And he was; sore was still fine.

"You've got a dent in you face," Cliffjumper noted.

"That's the worst of it," Mirage assured him. "Really, Cliffjumper, why are you here?"

"To get you," Cliffjumper said and scowled. "Obviously. I, we couldn't leave you to get yourself deactivated. Hound is rustling up a distraction. Other than the front door, is there another way out of this tower?"

"Yes," Mirage said, "There is an exit off the underground garage. The servants..."

"Perfect," Cliffjumper said. He set to work freeing Mirage's hands and peds.

"How exactly do you plan on getting out of this apartment?" Mirage asked, his voice noticeably flustered. "I can't believe you even got in!"

"The Seekers are busy interfacing each others' processors offline," Cliffjumper said.

"Oh they've been at that for hours, they will stop soon," Mirage said. "We can't count on them not noticing..."

"We'll wait," Cliffjumper said. "Geez you're not good at sneaking without your field."

Mirage made a sound but said nothing.

"Trust me," Cliffjumper said. "Hound's going to have them distract real soon."

End Chapter 6

So... That was difficult to get out with school on my brain but it got out.

Ya, a little easy to get into the Towers, blah blah, but really. This is fanfiction. XD


	7. Chapter 7

London Bridge

Chapter 7

Made a slight change to the greater series plot. Following

comic 't really affect anything here.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

Cliffjumper was gorgeous. The thought process repeated over and over in Mirage's processor even as he did everything in his power to think of anything else. Still, the thought repeated in an endless loop. Mirage shuttered his optics, to prevent himself from staring. There was future in those thoughts. Cliffjumper had very set opinions on Towers mechs and none of them were positive. And he had every right to them. He had come to save Mirage; he must not have liked owing a life debt to a dead mech. Even a dead Towers mech.

When had Mirage started to like Cliffjumper? This epiphany that Cliffjumper was beautiful would not bother Mirage so much if he didn't like Cliffjumper. There were many beautiful Towers mechs, many beautiful mechs in general, that Mirage had encountered through his life. None of them made his processor freeze and his spark flutter. This was absolutely unacceptable. He could not allow himself to be enamoured with Cliffjumper. It would only hurt too much in the end.

"They still haven't let up," Cliffjumper said after a long while.

"No," Mirage said.

"You really okay?" Cliffjumper asked.

"Yes," Mirage replied. "Just a little drained."

"If you knew he was going to sell you out why did you come here?" Cliffjumper said. "You should've left his sorry aft to rust."

"I couldn't," Mirage said. "I can't really explain it. But I had to try."

"You're a glitchhead," Cliffjumper said with a huff. "But you're loyal so I guess it evens out."

Suddenly, the sound of metal crumbling and crashing echoed through the apartment. Mirage and Cliffjumper glanced wearily at each other and back at the door and became completely silent.

"Did one of you slaggers intentionally break the door or are you just too defective to know how to operate a touch pad?" A voice Mirage knew to be Starscream's asked from somewhere in the greater apartment.

"Eh?" Skywarp made a sound. "You know you're interrupting..."

"Defective drone," Starscream snapped. "Unless you would like Megatron to tear your still pulsing spark from your chassis, you will both come with me and deal with the mob of miserable scrap heaps currently trying to take over the Towers."

"Come on, Sky," Thundercracker sighed. "Later."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Skywarp purred.

From within the washracks, Cliffjumper and Mirage heard gears grind as the Seekers separated. After a few moments, Cliffjumper eased the door open and peered down the hall. He couldn't see if the room was empty or not, but he didn't hear anyone.

"Stay put," Cliffjumper said as he glanced back at Mirage. As quietly as he could, Cliffjumper slunk along the wall, his back not quite touching the flashy finish, until he reached the end of the hall. He scanned the room, and felt the tension in his cables ease. He moved quickly back to the washracks.

"It's clear," Cliffjumper said. "Come on, let's go. You do know where the servants elevator is, right?"

"Of course," Mirage said, getting up just a little gingerly. His joints creaked after being still for so long. "I used it regularly sneak out."

"Why not just use your generator?" Cliffjumper asked. He opened the door to the hall, and looked around for any other mechs. There were none.

"I did," Mirage said. "Sometimes my creator would deactivate it. He disabled it before the Seekers brought me here."

"Oh," Cliffjumper said. "Well slag. So... lead the way."

Cliffjumper kept close to Mirage as they crossed the hall and Mirage revealed the servants elevator, camouflaged to blend into the rest of wall. His own creators had been deactivated for a long time now. The pain from their loss had dulled a little but Cliffjumper felt a new sharp tug in his spark. In these anxious seconds he felt a pang of guilt as well as an added sense of loss. Had he ever told them how grateful he had been to them? No. Cliffjumper didn't remember ever doing so. He'd regret it forever now. He had never known how cruel creators could be. His would never have raised a digit to harm him and he thanked Primus for them. At the same time he privately hoped that Mirage's creator would get his due.

The elevator door shut behind them. Only now did Cliffjumper take a moment to glance up at Mirage's face. The Towers mech was looking away from him, staring forward. For a moment, Cliffjumper's temper flared but it calmed quickly. Mirage had had a rough day; he was probably just trying to process what had happened. For a moment Cliffjumper wondered if he should say something, offer comfort, but dismissed the idea with some contempt. He was a thoughtless hot head. He had no idea how to comfort someone, let alone someone he was only just considering a friend. These were just excuses though. The truth was he wanted to say something, anything to offer a little comfort or sympathy but he just didn't have the words.

Cliffjumper looked away from Mirage and kept his optics on the doors. The silence felt awkward, heavy but neither mech moved to speak. Finally, the elevator chimed and its door opened to the basement. It was empty. Cliffjumper frowned as they quickly exited the elevator. He had been certain that mechs would have been trying to flee the mob.

"Why isn't anyone trying to run away?" He asked.

"They feel safer holed up in their rooms," Mirage explained. "They believe without a doubt that someone else will deal with the problem and the Towers will hold."

"Hope they don't try that if Megatron gets mad," Cliffjumper said.

"This way," Mirage said gesturing to the glimmering shield that blocked the exit far across the open garage. They would hide in their rooms if Megatron became enraged. They would hide and assume that someone or something would resolve the issue. Mirage released a puff of air from his intakes. He didn't know what would happen, but Mirage feared that his old neighbours would not be spared by hiding out of sight.

Mirage entered the codes into the touch pad on the nearest pillar to the entrance/ exit. Only the servants were supposed to know these codes, so that they could come from their homes far from the towers, and leave without ever being seen. They were supposed to be invisible. But Mirage wasn't special amongst the Towers mechs. Many residents actually knew the codes so they could move about unnoticed to some activity that would have brought them humiliation from their neighbours.

"You look okay," Hound said as the field lowered and he stepped into view. "But I won't believe it until Ratchet sees you. Let's go."

All three mechs transformed and sped away from the Towers. Mirage didn't even glance back. He felt the urge but set it aside. There was no going back. He was absolutely terrified, looking back would only make it worse. In minutes he would have gone farther than he ever had. And they would only just be out of Helix. They would still be kilometres from Iacon. It was absolutely surreal. Hound led the way, Cliffjumper herded Mirage in between himself and Hound. No one spoke until they were well out of Helix. Still, Mirage didn't look back.

"Don't ever do anything like that again, okay 'Raj?" Hound asked. "Please?"

"I don't think it's going to come up again," Mirage replied. He hadn't taken any real damage but he felt as though he had been run over by a freight mech.

"We'll be in Iacon soon," Cliffjumper said, feeling truly awkward. He could hear the lethargy in Mirage's voice. His attempt at reassurance felt half-afted.

"Thank you," Mirage said. "I should have said it before."

"Don't be an aft," Cliffjumper said. "We're even."

Okay, now Cliffjumper felt like the aft. Yes, that really didn't come out right.

"I'm glad you're okay," Cliffjumper said in an attempt to recover some semblance of decency.

Oh smooth. Hound chuckled to himself. Poor Cliffjumper. He was not eloquent at all.

"We'll go see Ratchet first," Hound said. "Just in case."

"I promise I'm not going to just deactivate where I stand," Mirage said.

"Just in case," Hound repeated.

Mirage almost seemed meek to Cliffjumper. It was an impression far different than the one he had first hS of Mirage, and all the rest of the short time he had known the Towers mech. Guilt or exhaustion? Maybe both? Cliffjumper was not prepared to ask. But he hoped it didn't last. Let it be guilt or exhaustion and now a total change in personality. Cliffjumper didn't think he would like a meek, obedient Mirage.

Ratchet's clinic sat in the heart of Iacon. As they entered the city Cliffjumper couldn't help but be surprised by the leisurely pace the mechs moving around them seemed to have. It was as if what happened to the Academy didn't touch the mechs of Iacon. It was an ambivalence Cliffjumper had not expected.

"Hey Hound," Cliffjumper said. "Do they not know? Or do they not care?"

"Most should know," Hound replied. "Many of them are probably in shock or denial. Praying to Primus that nothing like that happens here."

"Something'll happen here," Cliffjumper grumbled as they arrived at the clinic. "Megatron isn't going to just stop in Helix."

"You're probably right," Hound agreed sadly. "Hopefully Optimus and Prowl will come up with some idea to stop him. Inside 'Raj."

"Now that's a sight," the receptionist said. "Which of you needs to see the medic?"

"Him," Hound gestured to Mirage.

"No surprise there," the receptionist said. "There's no wait. Go on into room one; it's been a slow day."

No surprise indeed. Any time Hound had come by Ratchet's clinic, the neutral medic's clinic had been hopping with life. There were always mech over energizing or otherwise injuring themselves throughout the day. He might have been over reading it, but Hound guessed that the clubs and bars were probably quite empty, the mechs staying home where they felt safest. The destruction of the Academy was likely not lost on most of these mechs. He wondered how Ratchet felt about the loss. The cantankerous mech had, of course, studied at the Academy. He'd probably lost friends in its destruction.

Hound steered Mirage into the exam room. Cliffjumper followed the two mechs in. He hadn't taken his optics off Mirage since he'd recovered him. And Cliffjumper wasn't about to take optics of the dunce until he and Hound had deposited him safely in the Autobot compound.

"Hound, Cliffjumper," Ratchet said in greeting when he entered the exam room a minute or less after they entered the room. "So your friend here... Paint, is this poor schmuck the victim of one of Jazz's pranks?"

"No," Hound said. "'Raj, Mirage is the victim of a lousy creator."

Ratchet's optics brightened and narrowed dangerously. He made a sound of disgust before directly Mirage over to the exam table.

"I can see your face plates took a beating," Ratchet said. "Anything else?"

"My field generator's been deactivated," Mirage said. "I don't believe it's anything serious but a Seeker did kick me in the abdomen."

"Optimus mentioned something about you," Ratchet said as he took out his plate regenerator and began repairing the damage on Mirage's face. "Slagging, loyal idiot. Pit spawn didn't deserve your help. I better not hear about you trying that again."

"I don't plan to," Mirage said. He felt a little sheepish. He was done with his creator, just as Delusion had made clear he was done with his creation.

"You need an extra large ration of energon and a long recharge," Ratchet said. Mirage felt a rush as Ratchet reactivate his generators. The dormant circuits lit up, ready for use. Mirage felt less hollow with them back to life. "But maybe a trip to the wash racks first."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Mirage said.

"Hound can show you to them." Ratchet said. Hound did exactly that, leaving Cliffjumper alone with the medic.

"Well," Ratchet said. "Have you taken on a new occupation."

"Not funny," Cliffjumper replied. "I need to roll around in something disgusting. I never want to be this clean again."

Ratchet snorted. What was Cybertron devolving into? The senate had mostly collapsed just a few cycles ago and already Megatron had made great gains in Helix. The academy meant nothing to the Towers and their ilk. They were throwing themselves at Megatron's peds with the greedy hope and the idea of gathering more power for themselves. The High Lord had turned Prime into a criminal, rather than his partner in power. Ratchet had resigned angrily from his senate seat. He refused to play any part in the sham government. Instead, he worked in his clinic defiantly treating anyone who came in. There were no Autobots or Decepticons in his clinic. Just mechs. Just like there should have been in the senate, and on the streets of Cybertron. The miners deserved changes in social order, he himself had called for it for ages. Megatron, not Prime, had fought hardest against those reforms. Of course the miners thought otherwise. It was a mess.

Under Megatron the class divide seemed to be growing wider. The workers weren't getting poorer, but they were learning to resent the elite more and more. Ratchet had to admit, only to himself, that he was surprised that Cliffjumper had taken part in the rescue of Mirage, a Towers mech he barely knew. Cliffjumper was normally a fine example of a worker with a keen hatred of the elite he saw as his oppressors. Although as a minibot, oppressors was an apt description of how he had been treated in his life. In any case this was a sign of hope. Perhaps Prime could make a whole out of Cybertron's society. Maybe.

"Better," Ratchet said when Hound and Mirage reentered the exam room. "Now I can actually see your armour. You look intact. Get home, the lot of you."

Ratchet walked with the other mechs down the sidewalk. Prime's headquarters weren't far from his clinic; there was no reason for them to drive. They all needed refueling and driving would only exhaust them all further. Prime's headquarters were near enough.

"I don't want to leave her to her own devices for too long," Ratchet said of his receptionist. "She might get it into her processor that she needs to reorganize the supplies again. I've only just now been able to find all my wrenches again."

"Alright, Ratchet," Hound said with a smile. He had his arm draped affectionately over Mirage's shoulders. A gesture of friendship that was only a thinly disguised attempt at supporting Mirage if he stumbled. Mirage was steady on his peds, and nowhere near the point of collapse but he was kind enough to humour Hound's overprotective gesture.

"Thank you, Ratchet," Mirage said. "Though I hope I don't have any need to see you again soon."

"Better not," Ratchet warned. "Get your slagging afts onto berths within the hour. Or..."

A devastating explosion threw all four mechs to the ground. Debris bounced off of the sidewalk, the streets and the mechs themselves. Horrified cries erupted from other mechs on the street. They climbed to their feet and turned around. An inferno and rubble met their optics. Ratchet's clinic had been flattened. A dark, and huge, predatory flyer dropped another bomb. Ratchet kept his balance this time. Rage rolled over him and he grabbed a piece of debris that had once been part of his clinic and he threw it at the flyer, missing by several meters. He threw piece of rubble, and another. Getting closer to the flyer as it transformed and seemed to hover over the wreckage.

"Pit-damned, slagger," Ratchet roared. "I'll rip your circuits apart for that!"

"Ratchet, Ratchet," Hound said, placing his hands on the medics shoulders, only to have them brushed off. "Ratchet, you can't reach him."

Ratchet snarled and hurled a heavy piece of rubble with all his might. It hit the flyer dead in his face. Hound stared for a minute and blinked, then sucked air through his intakes.

"I stand corrected," Hound said. The flyer floundered but seemed to recover quickly from the hit. He now seemed to hone in on Ratchet. "Ratchet, we can't stay here."

The flyer retreated a bit as in quick succession, Ratchet hurled everything he could reach up at him. The flyers arms came up to shield his faceplates. Hound couldn't reason with Ratchet. Mirage and Cliffjumper looked on in shock and horror. The receptionist... she couldn't have survived.

"Primus," Jazz said as he arrived at the scene. Several autobots arrived with him. They shot up at the flyer. Under so much laser fire, the massive purple and grey flyer transformered again and shot up into the air, out of range. He was out of sight in seconds.

For a long moment, everyone stared up at the sky and then down at the rubble. Ratchet's optics blazed, and for a long time no one spoke. Crews came to quash the fire, and more and more mechs came to watch the crews were. Ratchet didn't move for a long time. Finally, he stepped away from the crowd. Swearing in anger and disgust, raging now at the mechs who came to watch the the tragedy unfold.

"Just like the coliseum," he finally said. Jazz nodded sympathetically.

"I guess you're coming home with us," Cliffjumper said.

"Pit-spawned slagger," Ratchet said, not answering Cliffjumper but finally he turned his back on the fire. Numb with anger and horror, the Autobots returned to headquarters with two new recruits in tow.

End Chapter 7

A/N I swear the next chapter will be the last. I swear. But it won't be coming for a few weeks. I have a rather long essay to write and a final exam all due in the first week of April.

I'm jumping with joy though. I'm heading to Bot Con in California in June. Anyone else going?

As always, reviews, and fanart, are great motivators and inspiration. Thank you for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

London Bridge

Chapter 8

So technically this fic follows a timeline and history that

splices the G1 cartoon and the IDW comic together as it suits me.

his is the last chapter. There will be a sequel. It's... Being rewritten.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: A minibot and a Towers mech met in a garden...

Warning: Racism, culture clash, attempted rape, mentions of prostitution, violence

Pairings: No pairings, could be considered as Mirage/ Cliffjumper preslash

Hound took over Mirage's care and Cliffjumper saw little of the Towers mech after that. Cliffjumper kept the company of his fellow minibots. Since they universally despised Mirage it was easy to avoid him. He felt guilty. But he also felt awkward and uncomfortable around Mirage. He didn't know what to say to him, what to do with him. It was easier to leave him to someone who knew him better.

"Can't believe Prime's just rolled out the welcome mat for the mech," Brawn grumbled. "And we're just supposed to act like he's one of us."

"Jazz's made him one of his special operatives," Huffer complained. "Acting like it doesn't matter that he's a Towers mech."

"And you know what his speciality is?" Powerglide asked. "Spying. He can go invisible. Probably going to slag us all while we recharge."

"He had to get rescued so he's probably not much of a spy," Gears said. "Unless it was all a trick to get Optimus to bring him in."

Cliffjumper said nothing. He felt as if he was betraying Mirage just by sitting and listening to this conversation. He should have been coming to Mirage's defence. He should have told them how he didn't want to be an Autobot but had been drawn into it. But his glossa didn't work and he remained mute. The only minibots not out to condemn Mirage were Bumblebee, Seaspray, and Beachcomber. They sat silently amongst the detractors as mute as Cliffjumper. Except by staying silent, they weren't betraying someone they had called a friend. They just didn't know Mirage and had no opinion on him.

The other minibots went silent as Hound entered the common room with Mirage. They pretended to look away and consume their rations but when Hound and Mirage's backs were turned, they scowled death glares into Mirage's back. Cliffjumper vented softly and looked down at his cube.

"What happened between you and Cliffjumper?" Hound asked once they sat at a table across the room from the minibots. They weren't really very good at covering their disdain. He felt it and knew Mirage must have as well.

"Other than him saving me?" Mirage said. "Nothing. He hasn't said a word to me since we got here. I've tried but he knows this place so well and just disappears whenever I approach him."

"It must be the others," Hound said abjectly. "The other minibots... He'll come around."

"Ever the optimist," Mirage said dryly. "I don't fault him, Hound. He has every reason to hate me."

"The only reason he has is that you are a Towers mech," Hound countered. "And that is not reason enough. He knows you, you aren't just a Towers mech to him. Trust me, he'll come around."

"Well, I hope you're right," Mirage replied. He took a small sip of his energon.

"You and Jazz seem to have hit it off," Hound said, changing the subject.

"He's a good mech," Mirage said. He chuckled lightly. "He seems to have forgiven me for going to my creator."

"Jazz has kind of tossed the job at you," Hound said. "Are you okay with it? Being an Autobot and having a clear role in the war."

"I'm unsettled," Mirage admitted. "This has all happened too quickly for me but it seems right."

"When do you go on your first mission?" Hound asked.

"I don't know," Mirage said. "The minibots aren't the only Autobot disturbed by my presence. Optimus is trying to pacify them."

"Sorry, 'Raj," Hound said, venting sadly. "You never get a break."

"I'm still functioning," Mirage said with a hint of humour in his voice. "I'd say that is a break."

"You've picked an odd moment to be optimistic," Hound teased.

"Maybe," Mirage said, and shrugged his shoulder in a rolling gesture Hound had once thought was flippant but now saw it as guarded.

"Finish your cube and we can play a game in my berth room," Hound suggested.

"I hope you aren't losing friends over me," Mirage said.

"My closest friend here is Trailbreaker," Hound said. "And with him still recuperating you two haven't met. Actually, I think Ratchet's released him so I'll introduce you two now.

Hound led Mirage through the compound. Ironhide called it the Ark. It was actually a ship that the Autobot used as a base. In case they needed to escape Cybertron, they would always be just minutes from take off.

They paced a few mechs in the hall, all gave them a wide berth. Friendly chatting stopped until Hound and Mirage passed by. It was hard not to resent the thinly veiled hatred and suspicion but Mirage resisted the urge to blame them. He was an outsider. His class was in league with Megatron. Still, the cold treatment stung. They arrived at a door not far from Hound's berth room. Mirage's was near as well, only a door down from Hound's. Hound pressed a buzzer and waited. A light blinked on the door panel and the door slid open.

Trailbreaker looked about the same as when Mirage had first seen him. He was nearly as large as Optimus and entirely black, but he didn't have the aura of power that Optimus possessed. Interesting that he still looked tired. The mech smiled and waved them in. He sat on his berth; Hound directed Mirage to the only chair while he perched on the desk.

"How have you been settling in?" Trailbreaker asked after Hound properly introduced them.

"Well enough," Mirage replied. Hound scowled. Trailbreaker must have seen it.

"The minibots?" Trailbreaker asked. Mirage felt his faceplates heat up.

"They're adjusting," Mirage said, not believing his own words.

Hound made a sound of contempt and vented with frustration.

"It's not just the minibots," he said. "Every mech here, except the officers, would just as well slag him as work with him."

"That bad?" Trailbreaker asked. He gave Mirage a sympathetic smile.

"He'd say it's fine," Hound said, silencing Mirage. "I'd say it's worse."

"I'm the enemy," Mirage said. " I don't blame them..."

"You should," Trailbreaker said gently. "You came to the Academy with Jazz without even taking a stake in this war. I would argue that you've proven yourself to be a good mech. They're just being close-minded and that is inexcusable."

Mirage fidgeted, and Trailbreaker smiled at him before looking up at Hound.

"Not good with compliments, is he?" He asked.

"Not so much," Hound replied. "And forgiving to a fault."

"Well you have another friend here, if you'll have me," Trailbreaker offered Mirage.

"Thank you," Mirage replied.

Hound and Trailbreaker made it a point to never let Mirage take a meal alone. No one joined their table, except for on occasion Jazz and Prowl. The open hostility seemed to have cooled, now the majority of the Autobots simply prevented that Mirage didn't exist. They would cram together at tables leaving those around the one Mirage would be sitting at empty. Mirage feigned indifference. Hound kept his peace.

"Hound's probably facing him," Powerglide said after draining his cube. "That's the only reason he could want him here."

"Bet that Towers mech knows all the moves," Gears snickered.

Cliffjumper opened his mouth and then shut it quickly. He stared at the table while his faceplates burned. They weren't... They hadn't... Images of Mirage and Hound grinding together flashed through his processor making Cliffjumper shudder. All the time they had lived together, all three of them had kept separate rooms, and Cliffjumper had never heard or seen anything that suggested that those two were intimate. Mirage's optics glimmered playfully, his smile was beguiling, and he reached out to Cliffjumper...

The red minibot choked on his energon and sputtered. The image of Mirage refused to fade from his processor. He felt far too hot. Cliffjumper jumped up from the table, saying nothing to the others as he fled the common room. His friends looked at each other and shrugged, then resumed their gossip.

Jazz raced into the room and made a b-line for Hound and Mirage. He leaned over their table and grabbed Mirage's arm. Both Mirage and Hound climbed to their feet as Jazz tried to rush them from the common room. The media screen on the front wall came to life, and the news story unfolded. On the screen, the Towers lay demolished over the Crystal Gardens.

"No survivors," the reporter said. Whatever else he said turned into static in Mirage's audios. He gripped the table for balance and hung his head. His whole body shook. The minibots cheared.

"Shut it," Jazz ordered angrily. "Mirage, come with me. Come on."

The room spun around Mirage and he staggered, unable to find his peds. Hound grabbed his other arm and he and Jazz helped Mirage from the common room. In the hall, Mirage found his balance. Still, Jazz and Hound held his arms and did not let go until he was seated on his own berth.

"I'm so sorry, Mirage," Jazz said. "I wanted to tell you myself. Primus, I'm so sorry."

Mirage didn't answer. Hound put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him. If he was saying anything, Mirage didn't hear it. All those people... his neighbours. The sparklings he'd grown up with. He'd sneaked off to play with Hound when he was supposed to be with them. They had said nothing to his creator because, in truth they had not wanted to play with him. When was the last time Mirage had said a word to any of them? Some had taken residence in their own apartments in the Towers, seeking independence from their creators. No survivors...

They hadn't been bad mechs. Most of his neighbours had been self absorbed. But they hadn't warred against anyone. Most had not been like Rollover, despite what the minibots thought. Thousands of mechs lived, had lived in those Towers and while they had all been arrogant, and entitled, most of them had never actively sought to hurt anyone. Primus, when Megatron had angered, they must have hid in their homes, as they always did when there was a disturbance, and Megatron had collapsed the Towers around them, burying them all.

"We'd been hearing rumours that the mechs of the Towers were growing uncomfortable with Megatron," Jazz said. "We thought it was a good sign. Slag. Slag, Mirage, I'm sorry."

"They were probably in their homes," Mirage whispered. "Waiting for someone else to deal with Megatron. They never fought their own battles."

"Slag," Jazz swore again. "I have to return to Prime."

"I'll stay with him," Hound said. "Go."

"You tried, Raj," Hound said after Jazz left. "I know it doesn't feel like enough but you did try."

Jazz returned less than an hour later for Hound.

"I told Prime what you said about the Towers mechs staying in their homes," Jazz explained. "There's a chance that some mechs might be alive in the rubble. We asked for volunteers. Well, Trailbreaker volunteered to look for survivors and I thought you would too Hound."

"Of course," Hound said.

"I want to help," Mirage said. His optics looked bleak. Coolant streaked his faceplates.

"We can't let you," Jazz said. "This isn't the work your model was made for. And, well you may do something reckless. Grief makes short work of sense, or so Prowl tells me."

"I agree with him," Hound said. "You won't be able to do much digging and if you were spotted you would be an instant target."

"There are reports of looting, Mirage," Jazz added. "It's not something you should see. Stay here and grieve."

Mirage wanted to argue more but the thought of looters set him back. Of course, the workers who remained in Helix, the pleasure bots, they would all be looking to improve their lot by digging up Tower treasure. What would they do if they found a mech? He remembered the anger the minibots and other mechs had for his ilk. Mirage felt energon rise in his throat and he covered his faceplates with his servos.

"Try and get some rest," Hound suggested. He patted his friend's hunched back before he left the room.

Only three mechs volunteered to launch a covert rescue. Everyone had wanted to go to the academy. Hound was disappointed but not in the least surprised. Jazz was angry. He wanted to scream at his comrades. These were people! Just people like all of them! They were buried in their homes, scores of them dead and too many of the Autobots relished their deaths. It made him furious. He prayed to Primus that they would take a step back, come to their senses and see what monsters they were becoming.

"Where are you going?" Cliffjumper asked as they rounded a corner. He had not been in the common room when Jazz had asked for volunteers.

"We're going back to Helix to look for survivors," Hound said.

"Where's Mirage?" Cliffjumper asked.

"In his room," Hound said. He paused. "Would you..."

Cliffjumper was already gone, running down the hall. Hound could only hope that he was going to look to Mirage.

"Let's go," Jazz said.

Cliffjumper didn't know what he expected to find or what exactly he planned to do. He stopped at Mirage's door and stared at it for several minutes. After taking a deep breath of air through his intakes, he pressed a button on the door, it slid open, obviously unlocked. Mirage didn't even look up when the door opened. Cliffjumper's spark constricted in his chassis.

Mirage wasn't moving at all, not even trembling. He arms folded in his lap and his faceplates buried in his arms. Cliffjumper took a tentative step forward. His engine rumbled and he covered the rest of the space between himself and the berth in a few quick strides. Still not speaking, he jumped on the berth, laid his arms over Mirage's back and rested his helm between them. Cliffjumper smoothed his hands in circles against Mirage's back. Mirage shivered beneath him, and a sob caught in his throat.

"Sorry, 'Raj," the words seemed paltry. But Cliffjumper offered them anyway.

Hound, Trailbreak and Jazz returned hours later, defeated and drained. They had no time to regroup or rest. Almost immediately after their return, Megatron set his sights on Prime's base, massing his troops around the Ark.

Optimus stood on the command deck with Ironhide at his side and gave the order to abandon Cybertron.

End Fic

A/N Happy ending, yes? The sequel's on it's way. Don't shoot me.


End file.
